Crying in bathrooms

There are two kinds of people. The ones who cry with the occasion, and the ones like me. The occasions come, a funeral, heartbreak, what ever it is that warrants the emotion of tears from us and instead we rise to get things done. Tears are suppressed and the world turns from the occasion to the normal without having given the occasion the tears it deserved.

I'm not strong, I act strong. I put my mind to work instead of facing the moment, the feeling or reacting to what would be considered an occasion for tears. Months even years later, while I sit alone watching a show or I bump my toe, the rivers start running. I do not cry, I wallow in endless streams of tears filled with confusion of which moment they fall for.

Its ironic, crying in bathrooms when I was younger was my way of acting strong,. I thought it was okay being alone to cry away the pain, the fear, the emotions I felt. Now, I cry. Not in bathrooms but still on my own.

Its frustrating. When I cry I always wonder the occasion it belongs, I try to cross it out but I can barely identify what it is that I would be crying for. Is it the pain of moaning my mother while she was alive rotting inside from cancer? Is it the fear of not living to my full potential? Is it the heartbreaks I do so well with in the time? I never know, I just cry though, and the saddest thing? I barely feel relieved. Instead I wipe the tears away, say a joke to myself and attempt a giggle.

Its all I've known to do. Perhaps its working, perhaps that's how I heal in a slow haphazard manner that continues over the years. I don't really know but for today when the tears burnt my eyelids before sliding down my cheeks, I let them and I tried not to identify them. It would not make a difference except frustrate me, for in my own way, I feel I constantly fail my heart for not being precise with when I water my cheeks. It is a relief though that i could shut off the jungle in my mind and for that second not be in control. Its a little reminder that I AM still human